Colder Weather
by demonbloodgirl
Summary: Dean Winchester doesn't like company. That's why he's lived in the Colorado mountains for the majority of his life. Can an encounter with a mysterious man named Castiel change his perspective on his life, and maybe his future too? AU.
1. Snowfall

**_**I do not own any characters. Dean Winchester,Sam Winchester and Castiel belong to Supernatural. No copyright infringement intended.**_**

Dean Winchester had been living in the Colorado mountains for as long as he could remember.

The cabin he lived in was small, sure, but it was comfortable. He had plumbing, and heat, and in his opinion that was all a guy needed to get by. He had the occasional visitor, but it was very rare, seeing as how it was a five mile trek up a constant snow covered mountain to get to his cabin.

He took a trip once every few months down the mountain to the nearest town for groceries and necessities. Every in the town knew who he was, but they all considered him some kind of Grinch, because he never socialized with anyone in town, and nobody knew anything about him except his name.

Dean didn't mind though, he loved the peace and quiet of the mountains. Dean chopped wood and brought it to town in exchange for food and necessities. After his tumultuous childhood, Dean appreciated the little things more, like no one constantly telling him what to do or bugging him when he didn't want to be bothered.

The only visit's Dean ever received were the occasional visit from his brother, Sam, who lived in Kansas. Sam didn't understand why Dean had chosen his hermit lifestyle, but he respected it and paid Dean the occasional visit and they shared weekly phone calls. Sam tried to get Dean to move back to Kansas, he tried telling him that there were plenty of places to hide there, but Dean was adamant he wasn't hiding from anything. Dean simply stated that he was content in the mountains, and the peaceful, isolated way of mountain life was for him.

Sam feared that Dean would never find anyone, and the loneliness would get to him eventually. Dean swore he didn't mind, that he didn't need anyone, because another person could break him, tear and shatter the perfect peaceful circle he had built around him in the snowy mountains.

Dean woke up to the smell of smoke. It was everywhere, wafting through his house like a forgotten meal on a stove. Dean rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed, scanning his two room cabin for any signs of a fire. He was sure a fire in the mountains of Colorado was almost impossible. There was snow year round, and anyway, before it could get out of hand, someone would see it. Town was only five miles away. It sounded long on foot, but in a car, it was nothing, even in the rough snow ridden terrain. Dean slid out of bed and pulled on his boots that were sitting next to the bed. He grabbed his coat off the wooden chair in the corner and pulled on his comfy winter hat. He walked to the door and cracked it open a bit. The wind was howling, and the clock in the corner said 3 am. He shut the door firmly and went to check his rooms for signs of a fire.

Dean's cabin had only had three rooms. A large bedroom/living room and an attached small bathroom and kitchen. All the appliances were off and safe and everything appeared normal. The wind blew against the windows of the small cabin and the smell wafted once again through Dean's cabin. He stood there, wondering how he could even smell the smoke if it was outside the cabin. He suddenly felt a breeze blowing across his skin and he turned to see the window in his bedroom cracked slightly open.

He crossed his room to shut it, glad that the source of the smoke had been outside and not inside. When he reached the window, he looked outside. A flicker or orange caught his eye, and he pressed his face against the glass, peering out and trying to see the source of the orange. Suddenly it hit him. Someone was burning something outside. Dean grabbed his shotgun from the small closet next to the bathroom and decided to check it out. He once again opened his door and stepped out into the snow. The orange caught his vision again, and he followed the flicker.

He walked the small, snow covered path from his house to his small shed, keeping a look out for any sign of fire or human life. He saw the occasional footprint track, but he assumed they were his from the many trips he took to his shed. The wind whipped around him and stung Dean's cheeks and eyes, but he was used to it. Finally, when he was a few yards past his shed and almost to the tree line, he saw the source of the flicker. There was a man, huddled around a small fire right at the edge of the forest. He had a big winter coat on, but he still looked frozen.

Not the kind of cold where you shiver, but a cold so deep it seems to permeate your bones. He had tattered mittens on his hands, and he rubbed them together to try and soak up any heat at all from the barely lit and slowly dying fire. He appeared to have no belongings, not a sleeping bag, or even a hat. It was just him, his coat, and his mittens. He didn't look up as Dean approached, and Dean began to fear that he was very frostbitten.

"Hello?" Dean called against the wind, hoping the man by the fire could hear him.

The man looked up, and his eyes locked with Dean's. Dean was now almost directly in front of the man, and he stopped, his gaze caught with the mysterious mans. He had brilliant blue eyes and messy, dark brown hair, cut short. He was frail, and appeared very thin, and malnourished. He looked to be about 22, maybe a bit older, but Dean wasn't sure.

"Do you need some help? Are you hurt?" Dean asked.

The man nodded, and Dean reached his hand out as an offering to help the man. The small man began to reach for Dean's hand, until he saw his gun on his shoulder, and he immediately cringed and pulled his hand away.

"I won't hurt you." Dean said softly.

He had seen the man's reaction to his gun, so he placed it gently on the snow beside the tree and walked a few steps towards the man.

"Come with me, please. You'll freeze to death out here." Dean said.

"I'm already dead." The man said. It was the first time Dean had heard him speak, and he could barely hear him over the howl of the wind against the trees. Dean felt cold all over, even in his warmest clothing. He didn't understand what the man meant, but he was sure he was trying to tell Dean that he was dead inside. Dean understood that, and sometimes he felt like he was too.


	2. Gypsy's Soul

Instead of walking away, like Dean feared he would, the man walked towards Dean and placed his hand on Dean's cheek. They locked gaze's again, and Dean couldn't bring himself to pull away. The man's brilliant blue eyes were piercing and Dean felt like he was looking straight into the man's soul, and he could not pull away.

"Who are you?" Dean breathed, his breath came out like wisps of smoke, frozen in the air.

"Castiel." The man said.

"Why are you out here alone?" Dean asked, concern and awe tinging his voice.

Castiel didn't answer , and Dean didn't push.

"Would you like a place to stay?" Dean asked.

Castiel nodded once again.

"You can stay at my cabin tonight. In the morning you can tell me how you got out here, and we can help you find your way back home." Dean said.

"Thank you." Castiel said, again locking Dean with those piercing blue eyes, that to Dean looked wiser than his years.

Dean nodded, feeling like he should introduce himself but not knowing how.

"I'm Dean Winchester." Dean said, reaching to shake Castiel's hand. The man simply watched Dean, never raising his hand, and Dean softly let it drop. He turned and began walking back towards his cabin. When he turned, Castiel was still standing by the remnants of his fire, watching him.

"Well come on." Dean said. "My cabin is over here."

This time, Castiel followed behind him, pulling his coat tight against him to fight the wind. When they reached Dean's cabin, Dean opened the heavy wooden door and led Castiel inside. He locked the door, and slipped off his coat, laying it back on the wooden chair, and setting his hat and mittens on the seat. He walked across the room and turned his heater up a notch, hoping the extra heat could help him fight the ever growing chill seeping through his bones. Castiel watched him curiously, as if every normal routine motion Dean did was new and foreign to him. Dean walked to his dresser and pulled an extra blanket out of the bottom and laid it on the floor next to his bed. He walked over to the closet and pulled out his only extra pillow and laid it on the floor with the blanket as well.

"You can sleep in my bed, and I will take the floor." Dean said, pointing to his small bed and internally cursing himself for being such a nice guy.

"I can't take your bed." Castiel said.

"Really, it's fine. You're a guest, and you look like you could use a good night's sleep anyway." Dean said.

Castiel walked over to the bed and sat down.

"Would you like something to eat?" Dean asked.

Castiel shook his head no, and Dean decided that if Castiel needed anything else, he could ask him. Dean walked over to his dresser again, and found some clean pajama pants and grey t-shirt. He handed them to Castiel, since the clothes he was wearing looked worn and dirty.

"Put these on." Dean said, and handed the clothes to Castiel.

Castiel gingerly took the clothes and looked at Dean.

"The bathroom is over there. Feel free to use anything you might need in there." Dean said.

Castiel disappeared into the bathroom and returned a few minutes later, wearing Dean's clothes and holding his folded in his hands. He looked even smaller in Dean's clothes. They fit Dean perfectly, but on Castiel's frail body they looked baggy and huge. Dean felt many things when he looked at Castiel. The desire to help him, and the desire to know more about the man. Right now though, Dean decided they both needed sleep, and he would attack those questions in the morning. Dean laid down on the floor and curled up underneath his blanket. His floors were a bit chilly, but had the heater up an extra notch, and Castiel needed it more than he did. He watched as Castiel peeled back the covers of his bed and slid inside. Dean reached up and pulled the string on his lamp, and they were enveloped in blackness.

"Dean?" Castiel whispered.

"Yes, Castiel?" Dean replied. He felt sleep starting to envelop his mind and body, and he hoped Castiel spoke soon.

"Goodnight."

Dean barely heard it, and when he did, he wasn't sure he heard right. But Castiel had in fact, wished him goodnight, so Dean did the same, and then let sleep take him.

Dean woke again, in the early morning, and rolled over on the floor to look at the clock. It said 5 am. Dean had slept well for about three hours, but now he was wide awake. He sat up and looked over at his bed to see if Castiel was asleep, and noticed that his bed was empty. He looked around the room, frantically searching for Castiel, but he wasn't in the bedroom. Dean hopped out of bed and opened the door to his little kitchen. Castiel was sitting in one of the chairs.

"Castiel is everything alright?" he asked.

"I couldn't sleep." Castiel asked.

"Do you want some coffee or something?" Dean asked.

"No, I'm fine." Castiel said.

"Well then now would be a good time for us to talk, wouldn't it?" Dean said, and he pulled out the chair across from Castiel.

Castiel appeared suddenly nervous and began wringing his hands together. He rubbed the back of his neck and his eyes were everywhere but on Dean.

"Cas, talk to me." Dean said. "I don't know the first thing about you. All I know is something told me to help out a complete stranger. The lease you can do is tell me who you are and how you got all the way up here."

"I…well..I.." Castiel stuttered, his nerves beginning to impair his speaking.

Dean reached his hand across the table and placed it on Castiel's. The younger man's hand was shaking, and Dean pressed his hand harder against his, trying to subdue the shaking.


	3. Emptyness

Castiel stood up suddenly, almost knocking over his chair in his haste.

"I can't do this." He said, and he ran to the door.

"Thank you Dean, for everything. But I cannot stay. I'm sorry." He opened the door and stepped out into the night air.

"Cas, wait!" Dean shouted, but his pleas were too late. Castiel was gone, and nothing but howling wind and new fallen snow remained.

Dean shut the door, and slowly walked back over to the kitchen table. He straightened up the chairs, and walked into his main bedroom. He wasn't sure if he should go after Castiel, or if he should just go about his daily business.

A part of him was worried, frightened, really, that something would happen to Castiel. A scene floated in front of Dean's eyelids, Castiel laying broken and bleeding in the snow, frostbite evident on his small body. Dean shook himself away from the scene but no matter where he looked or what he thought, it kept crossing his mind, floating like leaves being carried away by Fall's crisp breeze.

"I have to go after him." Dean said out loud. So he did.

He opened his door and walked out into the snow, his eyes scanning for any sign of life. He began to walk towards the treeline, his eyes constantly moving for any signs of life.

"Cas, are you here?" Dean asked, but no reply came, just the ever peaceful quiet of the mountains staring back at him.

Dean knew that the chances of survival in the Colorado mountains were slim. He'd heard more than one story of a hiker or a drunk, lost, that never made it out of these woods. He worried for Castiel, and he internally cursed himself for not chasing him the moment he walked out his door.

"Cas?" Dean again, called out into the snow.

He looked for footprints, or disturbed foliage, anything to give him a clue to where Cas was, but there was none. He knew all he could do was check the area around his house, and hope that maybe Cas had set up camp at the same spot Dean had found him the night before. Dean retraced his steps and found the place where he had first met Castiel the night before. Dean was sure he was in the right place, but there was no campsite, not even a fleck of ash. The snow was undisturbed. Dean shuddered, and fought back another cold chill that seemed to permeate even his best jacket.

"Castiel, Please!" Dean shouted into the woods, but all that came back was en echoe.


	4. Flicker

Dean stood there with the woods pressing in all around him. His life had never been ordinary, but it at least had a pattern, a method to its madness. Dean rarely asked God for anything, but for the first time since Jo died, he broke down.

Dean fell to the ground, his knees resting in the snow. He felt it slowly seeping through his pants, but he didn't care. The wind was howling around him, stinging his eyes and making him cringe.

"God, please. I don't ask you for much. Please let me find Castiel." Dean pleaded, tears springing from his eyes.

Dean didn't know why he felt this sudden onslaught of emotion for a man he barely even knew. All he knew was that there was a possibility someone was out there freezing to death in the Colorado tundra and he had a way to stop it.

"Just give me a sign, something. Point me in the right direction. If I don't help him, nobody will."

Just as Dean was about to give up, he saw a flash of black to his right. He stood up instantly and began walking in the direction he thought he had seen the color. Dean didn't know why he was walking aimlessly towards a flash of color, but he knew that he had just prayed to God for the first time in eight years, and he was sure it was a sign.

As Dean walked, he thought back on the last time he had ever prayed.

_Dean was eighteen and a Senior at Lawrence High in Kansas. Everything was going good for him. He had a steady job working at Bobby's Auto Parts and he was madly in love with his longtime girlfriend, Joanna Harvelle. His brother was a Freshmen and already making a name for himself as the smartest kid in his grade. He had so much faith in Sammy, more than he did himself, and he knew that his younger brother was going to go far. Dean spent his weekends making out with Jo in his 1967 Chevy Impala or hanging out at Jo's Mom Ellen's bar with their small circle of friends. Everything was perfect for Dean Winchester until two weeks before Graduation. He'd been planning on taking Jo somewhere nice to celebrate them both graduating. Sam had been helping him plan everything, and Dean was ready to ask Jo to marry him. He picked her up on that fateful Saturday night in the Impala, nervous with unspoken excitement. Jo was oblivious, of course. She had pushed Dean's extreme good mood the last few days off to easy last minute class work. It was raining, not heavily, but steadily increasing. Dean wasn't worried, he had driven in weather much worse than this. Besides, Jo was a great driver, and she never hesitated to tell Dean exactly what he was doing wrong on the road. Suddenly, before Dean was conscious of what was going on around him, a semi-truck was sliding off the road and directly in the passenger side of Impala. Jo was dead, and everyone in Kansas blamed Dean for the accident, including himself. Dean got to see her for a few minutes in the hospital that night, and he told her how much he loved her, and he prayed. But it didn't work, and Jo couldn't be saved. Sam tried to reason with Dean, but he wouldn't listen. In just a few seconds of someone's careless driving, Dean's whole world had fallen apart. It was then that he had decided he couldn't stay around people, because that way he couldn't hurt anyone, ever again._

Dean didn't realize how long he had spent reflecting on Jo, and before he knew it, he was a mile deep in the woods, still aimlessly looking for the streak of black that he had known for sure was a sign. Dean was ready to give up. He had done his best to help Castiel, but the man obviously didn't want any help from Dean. Dean was twenty-five and he had been living in the mountains almost eight years. He knew his way around, but he didn't know if finding someone who didn't want to be found was worth the effort.

Just as Dean was about to turn around and head back towards his cabin, an odd shaped stone caught his eye. He leaned down to examine it, and his breath caught in his throat.

_Castiel Milton Born: 4/1/1924 Died: 11/20/1946._

Dean couldn't breathe, and he collapsed on the ground by the stone.

That's what Castiel had meant, when he said he was already dead. He was, he always had been. He was a ghost, roaming the mountains of Colorado, searching for a home, or a place, or a person who was long gone. Dean wasn't scared, but he felt an overwhelming thirst for knowledge, to know what had taken Castiel out of this world, what he was searching for, and why he was still here.

Dean was determined to find out, even if his curiousity cost him his life. Dean felt himself began to shake, but not from cold, or fear, but from shock. Dean was never a believer in the supernatural, but there was no denying what he saw in front of him, and a name like that was never a coincidence.

As if he needed more reason to believe, Dean felt a cold hand on his cheek as he laid in the snow, unmoving. He didn't want to open his eyes, for fear of what he would or wouldn't see. Dean felt the hand brush his face, and when he opened his eyes, nothing was there.

Dean felt one solid tear roll down his cheek, and fought for the strength to stand up and walk away, but he couldn't move. He was paralyzed by shock and cold, and he couldn't leave.

Thousands of questions flooded Dean's mind as he laid in the snow.

Why was Castiel here?

How was Dean able to see him?

He had to know what happened. He had too. He wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise.

Dean stood up and looked around him.

"Castiel, are you here?" he asked nervously, hugging his jacket to his chest.

The wind whipped around Dean, ringing in his ears and stinging his cheeks.

"Dean."

It was soft, and at first, Dean wasn't sure had heard right. But when he heard his name whispered once again, he knew it was no longer a trick of the breeze. He turned around, and there was Castiel, standing just behind his headstone.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dean asked.

"Because I thought you would run. Everyone always does." Castiel said softly.

"I wanted to help you. You had me worried to death you were going to freeze to death out here!" Dean said.

"I know. But I couldn't bring myself to tell you..what I was." Castiel said.

"I don't care what you are, I just want to help you. I don't know why, but I do. I don't think I will ever feel right again unless I don't." Dean said.

Castiel met his eyes for a brief moment, and something passed between them like a flicker, and Dean wished he could grab hold of whatever it was.

The snow was falling once again, and the wind seemed to be picking up. Dean feared a storm was coming.

"Castiel, I have to get back to the cabin, a storm is coming!" Dean shouted against the heavy approaching wind.

"I know a place you'll be safe, Dean. Come with me." Castiel extended his hand to Dean, and Dean took it.

They ran through the woods until they reached a small cave. The opening was the size of a small window, and Dean's claustaphobia began to kick in, until Castiel reassured him that it opened up into a larger space. Dean crawled through after Castiel, and to his surprise, the cave did open up into a large stone room. Dean could hear the wind whipping against the cave, but it was still light out, and he could see everything around him.

"How can I see you?" Dean asked.

"I do not know. I have been roaming these mountains for years. Some can see me, some can not. Those who can always push it off to their imagination. I've been quite lonely." Castiel said.

"I may not be able to save you, Castiel, but I told you, I want to help. Although, getting a ghost some peace wasn't exactly the kind of help I thought you needed." Dean said.

"I am sorry that I worried you, Dean. I was so enthusiastic that someone had seen me and was talking to me, that I forgot that you might not handle the truth well." Castiel said.

"Well I haven't passed out yet, have I?" Dean asked, chuckling to himself.

Castiel moved closer to Dean and wrapped his arms around him, pulling the other man close to him.

"You feel so solid, and warm. It's almost like your human." Dean said.

"It's all an illusion, Dean. But isn't everything?" Castiel remarked.

Dean nodded and relaxed into Castiel's embrace to wait out the storm.


End file.
